


I Feel Cold, But I'm Back In The Fire

by eveljerome



Series: author's favorites [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, Bottom Loki (Marvel), Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Heart-to-Heart Talking, Injuries From Lightning, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Mjölnir, Pre-Thor (2011), Self-Loathing, Thorki Big Bang 2018, caring thor, mild body horror, self exploration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-08 11:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16428821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eveljerome/pseuds/eveljerome
Summary: Loki and Thor have been together for a long time and are happy together. An incident in the training fields leave Thor in despair and Loki injured. Thor leaves, ashamed, furious at himself for his own inability to control lightning. Loki believes Thor had left him because of the extensive scars he now has, and comes up with a plan to glamour himself, to hide the scars. After a successful attempt at the glamour, he wills it to drop - revealing his true, frost giant appearance.For the 2018 Thorki Big Bang! Art by the wonderfulboltplumart- on tumblrhere





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: [Kris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hayspecks)
> 
> This fic was a wild ride and absolutely loved writing it! The editing was plagued by many things, with the assigned beta vanishing and then absolutely no time to edit what the beta I found later did with the text. But its done and finished, and I like it a lot. I hope you like it as well. Thank you Kris for your "this makes no sense" comments on my sentences and all the question marks! 
> 
> Thank you ever so much to boltplumart for creating art for this fic - you should absolutely follow their [art blog](http://boltplumart.tumblr.com/) and read [their fic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrhiddles/pseuds/mrhiddles) as well!

Waking in Thor’s arms has always been and will always be a pleasure. 

Leaving sleep behind, Loki opened his eyes, sighing softly. It was pleasant and he really didn’t want to get out of bed anytime soon. Humming under his breath, Loki reached out to touch Thor, tracing his fingers across everything he could reach, admiring his brother’s power and how well Thor could pin him down, relishing the memories. At the same time he could recall all those times when Thor would gladly submit to him instead and let Loki take control, to overwhelm his big brother in all the right ways.

Today they were in for a long day at the training yards, not even with the slightest chance to escape, all because Odin had mentioned his plans to be there today, to observe their progress. And Loki knew very well that their various trainers had had it with them sneaking away from practice lately. 

Suddenly a spark jumped from Thor’s skin to his fingers, shocking Loki. Gasping lightly he smirked and poked at Thor some more, to elicit more sparks. It didn’t take long for his brother to react—suddenly Thor woke up completely and turned them both over, squishing Loki in the furs, smiling down at him. Thor was gripping him by the shoulders and Loki could feel electricity thrumming, ready to spark and shock him some more.

“Morning, Thor.” Loki smiled in return, looking up at his brother. Thor was so central, so important to him, and it was so easy to love him, that Loki didn’t even notice when that worship had turned from brotherly affection into full blown love. 

They both had tried to stay away from each other, had tried being with others, but it ached too much seeing the other in embrace with someone else. They kept gravitating towards each other, somehow forgetting about those other people again and again. They could not stay away, not really. 

There was no need for Loki dwell on the fact that his love for Thor was far more one-sided than he wished. Oh he knew Thor loved him, but he was never absolutely sure how long that love would last. 

Loki knew very well that Asgard would be ahgast if they were ever found out, but he also knew that it was more to do with Thor not able to give Asgard an heir instead of what other realms out there might think in their prejudice. After all Freya and Freyr had never hidden their relations and no one in Asgard, Alfheim or Vanaheim batted an eye about that. 

Loki could whisper to them all that shapeshifting, when done correctly and masterfully, could provide an heir, so there would not be a need to grumble. But that mastery level was still far away for Loki, and Thor wasn’t expected to have an heir for a very long time yet. All was good, and they could enjoy their moments spent together without duties and many constraints on their time.

Studies and training was a different matter entirely—Loki relished the time he could spend in the library, but that did not mean he was a slacker on the battlefield. He especially coveted every chance he got to show his skills against Thor in the training yards. 

Thor might be stronger than him, but Loki was quicker and could definitely hold his own. It was also mightily satisfying seeing Thor on the ground, sprawled in the dust, that little angry smirk in the corner of his mouth; Thor being ready to pummel him and win as soon as he got back to his feet. 

“Morning, Loki.” Thor said, turning Loki’s thoughts back to the here and now. They still had time before breakfast, to spend together in a bed. Oh, so many good things they could do. But today was more important than a regular training day after all.

And they had to be extra careful with their closeness, considering Odin was definitely someone they didn’t want to know about their much-closer-than-brothers relationship. It would be horrifically sad being punished or separated because of it. 

Loki knew that Frigga would love them no matter what. He knew that Heimdall definitely suspected something, but Loki’s magics had grown in the stealth much since they started sleeping together. Warriors Three and Sif were clueless, Fandral regularly trying to flirt with Loki, Sif rolling her eyes at them both. 

“We have a bit of time before breakfast. What shall I do with you?” Loki said, still on his back, gazing into Thor’s eyes. More sparks had started running over his skin, making Loki twitch in the best of ways feeling all that power run over him. It was exhilarating. Ever since Thor started showing his innate magic more and more, Loki could not keep his hands and fingers far away from him. 

“Perhaps I could do something to you?” Thor said before leaning down and licking a stripe across Loki’s chest, traversing right over his nipples, making him gasp and arch his spine, seeking more of that tongue. Letting go of one of Loki’s shoulders, Thor let his fingers spark above him, and then brought down them right to the nipple. 

“Aaah! Mmm.” Loki gasped, pushing against the contact, moaning out loud. “More.” 

“Insatiable Loki.” Thor murmured, leaning over Loki and pressing him back on the furs before slotting his mouth over Loki’s, kissing him deeply, letting his tongue devour all of Loki’s moans. One of his hands had travelled down and curled around Loki’s cock stroking it up and down, going faster and tighter with every stroke. “If I fucked you every day, morning and night, it would still not be enough for you.” 

He tightened his grip on Loki’s cock finally teasing out a louder shout from his brother at that. Loosening the fist, he stroked once up, then let his fingers touch the slit and start rubbing it, before letting his fingers spark up.

“Oooh, Thor!” Loki shouted again, instantly coming all over Thor’s fingers, trembling in his arms, panting from the sharp orgasm. 

“There. Now we can begin our morning, after you’ve come. And look how fast it was, have you no shame?” Thor teased, running his fingers over the too sensitive cockhead, all the while smirking down at Loki. 

“Uhnn, Thor.” Loki slurred, lifting a hand to draw Thor closer, then exchanging many more deep kisses as Thor rutted at his thigh, coming all over Loki. Licking all the come up, he fed it to Loki in another deep kiss, sharing his taste with him. 

“Mmm, I taste good, don’t I?” Thor murmured, pressing short kisses to Loki’s brow, his cheek, his nose.

“Always, Thor, always.” Loki sighed, knowing they should soon get out of bed to take a shower before going to the feasting hall. 

 

~~  
After breakfast—where Thor could not stop himself from rubbing his foot up and down Loki’s calves, teasing him—they got up to go to the training yards. Not even delaying on the way on purpose, knowing that Odin might be there early as well. And he was, Loki spied him talking with several einherjar in training.

“Nervous, brother?” Loki whispered in Thor’s ear, while they were still out of sight of most observers. He could see their ringmaster start getting nervous, impatiently waiting for the princes. Let him stew for a little while yet.

“What about?” Thor raised an eyebrow at Loki, reaching out a hand and running it up Loki’s chest, squeezing at places, teasing at his nipples again. Loki shallowly breathed in and out, not wanting to draw attention to them. They might be hidden in shadows, out of sight of many, but there were always seeing eyes in the training yards, not to mention Odin himself. His talk with the trainees wouldn’t be long, Loki knew well.

Wanting everything to go smoothly, Loki slapped Thor’s hand away (even though all he wanted was to grab Thor closer and shock everyone in the training yards with what they were doing with each other every night in their beds). “Well. How about me wiping the floor with you? I think that might worry you just a smidge, no?” He coyly looked up at Thor, the look morphing into a full blown smirk.

“Not a chance. I’ll definitely be peeling you from the dirt, brother.” Thor laughed, letting his fingers spark. “After all, I have to show everyone out there that I’m worthy of Mjolnir.”

Thor had been longingly talking about that hammer for forever now, and Loki could just roll his eyes at all that hammer-worship every time it came up. Logically he knew that it would help Thor with targeting his lightning powers, would make them so much more precise; would stop them lashing out in all directions as sometimes happened in the training yards. 

Loki was confident in himself that he could take on enough of Thor’s lightning in a battle, and dissipate the rest safely. 

“Let us go.” Loki eventually said—they had been gazing into each other’s eyes for at least two minutes—promising each other everything and anything. 

 

~~  
It all ended badly not forty minutes later, with Loki face down in the dirt, Thor on his knees with a look of despair on his face, with Odin sending his ravens to summon Eir and the rest of the medics. 

Loki had actually won the first bout, earning a nod and a smile from Odin, acknowledging his success at battle and strategy. The second and third bout was Thor’s—with dark clouds gather above—called there by Thor’s natural abilities. After a bit of a break, and some muttering from other fighters that a prince should win by strength alone and not cunning as Loki did, Thor had insisted on another bout—Loki could sense his impending plan of losing already, and could only sigh.

But that’s not how it all went down. Thor didn’t make any obvious and telling mistakes and was honestly beating Loki at the bout, until Loki tried a move he was still unsure of, something new and not tested nearly enough times yet: calling up a double of his likeness. It surprised Thor enough to lose focus for a moment letting the real Loki sneak up on him. And that in turn startled Thor a lot more, and right in the middle of calling for more lightning. 

The double dissipated away before the lightning could reach it, the plasma bolts travelling towards the real Loki and Thor himself.

Thor could take all of the lightning he ever called forth. That was an irrefutable fact.

In comparison there was no way Loki could take double the force of lightning Thor had called forth to defeat both him and the double. 

And he couldn’t.

All he could feel instead was excruciating pain—everything was tingling, he could not hear anything over the rush of his own breath. 

Opening his eyes, Loki could not see anything clearly, everything was fuzzy and soft around the edges. There were shadows moving over him, someone was definitely screaming his name, or perhaps it was himself screaming for mercy, for the pain to stop. 

But the pain wouldn't stop, no matter how much Loki plead for darkness to overtake and plunge him into the painless oblivion. From the flashes and shadows he could feel himself being moved and carried somewhere, but finally all the jostling was too much and he succumbed to unconsciousness.

 

~~  
The first time Loki woke, it all felt like a dream—a floating feeling—everything soft and white around him, and Thor, was that Thor?

The second time Loki woke he realized where he was. Asgard’s healing rooms, his mother sitting next to him, with a pinched look of sadness. He could not take that directed at him and wanted to sink back to sleep. Last thing he saw was his mother leaning over him, gifting him with a kiss.

The third time Loki woke was during the night, hearing a muffled cries next to him, a calloused hand gripping his, apologies falling from someone’s mouth.

The fourth time Loki woke was to Odin talking with Eir and mother sitting next to him once more. Thor was absent, leaving a heavy feeling in Loki’s heart, that the night time cries was the last time he would see Thor for a long while.

 

~~  
Another three days in healing rooms and Loki was finally well enough to move to his own chambers. Escaping the stern look of his father, the sympathy in his mother’s eyes and the absence of Thor. 

He had apparently gone on a hunting trip.

Being unconscious for two weeks had spared him most of the pitying looks, but short of injuring himself once more to lose consciousness, he was out of options for avoiding the despair wanting to overtake him with every short breath he tried to take. 

Finally being alone, ushering his mother out, promising her to send a message if he felt ill, and standing in front of his floor to ceiling mirror, Loki could understand why Thor left. 

The lightning had left scars all across his chest, some crawling up to his neck, others trailing low, into his breeches. Loosening the string holding the breeches closed, Loki stepped out of them, now even closer to the mirror. 

Revulsed, but unable to stop himself, Loki trailed a finger down one of the scars from its starting point above his heart—which had given out en route from training field to the healing halls, and then again several times over before Eir had stabilized him—down and down where it lead across his belly together with so many others, then branching further down alone, curling around his hip and reaching his right knee.

There was another scar, on his opposite side, it started out at the same place leading away from his heart, but instead of traveling down his hip this one sneaked over his abdomen, and down to his cock on the left side. Gasping softly, Loki traced his finger until the scar’s end, then gulping and pulling his hand away as if burned. Crouching down, he grabbed at the breeches, stepping back into them, covering up. No. There was no need to explore and touch all the places where he was disfigured now. 

Gasping once more, still not getting enough air, Loki crawled in bed, quickly pulling the covers over his head, plunging everything back into darkness, into nothingness. If he could pretend he saw nothing, then nothing happened and there were no scars making him ugly, making Thor go away, making him leave. It hurt so much—the scars themselves were healed, the physical wounds all closed—but the ache was murderous. 

Thor had left a gaping hole in his chest. 

By leaving—by not saying goodbye—by leaving Loki alone to recover and find his footing again. 

He didn’t have to imagine the disgust Thor will wear on his face when he returns from wherever he had fucked off to. Loki wasn’t willing to listen to his father explain, wanting to be alone and not stared at with those pitying looks from everyone in the palace.

No matter Thor’s tears in the night. He left. And that told Loki everything he needed to know.

Loki cried himself to sleep, gasping breaths with not enough oxygen knocking him eventually out, tiring him completely.

He knew that at some point Frigga had visited, had sat with him, but all he wanted was that nothingness back, before he was awake and beset with these scars making him shiver whenever a sheet would pull over them, tickling.

 

~~  
Several days later, still sleepy, having blessedly forgotten about everything, anticipating Thor to soon sneak into his bedchambers, wanting to get a start on a fun morning—Loki grasped his cock with one hand stroking it, while his other hand had traveled to his chest touching the ridges—and froze, suddenly unable to draw a breath, crying out in anguish, pulling the hand away, curling it into a fist, just so he wouldn’t have to feel the scars on his chest. Nononono.

Groaning aloud he turned on his stomach, breathing into his pillow, trying to detect Thor’s scent in vain; wanting it all to end, to wind back time before the accident when it was him and Thor in this bed, fucking and cuddling or just lying next to each other. 

When they were not separated by unknown distances between them; one at the palace ailing and despairing away in a bed, while the other was raging somewhere in a forest about how ugly his brother had gotten.

After a good cry, feeling exhausted again, Loki finally got out of bed. Not willing to try a bath, he pulled on a long tunic, one that went up to his neck as well, and put on a thin cloak. 

The palace guards and other visitors had gotten used to the eccentric prince, and he had used the same tunic on enough occasions when he had to hide away lovebites on his neck. No one would be the wiser as to why Loki was sneaking to the kitchens dressed like a thief of the night. 

He wasn’t ready yet to brave breakfast with his parents, wanting to escape the knowing looks. 

Sitting with cooks and servants who were taken by gossiping, even if he was one of the curiosities was far more peaceful than sitting with Frigga and Odin would have been. These looks were sly and intrigued by his presence alone. 

At least two girls and a boy kept shooting hims leering looks, as if considering how Loki would look like in their bed. Or perhaps how they themselves would look in his supposedly luxurious bed of pelts and surely there would be golden sheets, wouldn’t there?

Eaten his fill and taking several pastries along with him Loki unhurriedly went to the library, taking the less travelled corridors. It might have been a longer trip, but it did let him breathe at his own pace. Eir had said that it wasn’t only his heart that had been damaged but lungs as well, and he would feel breathless for a long while still as everything healed.

Library was a calm in the middle of a storm, always has been. It was Loki’s safe place, where he could find answers to his questions; where he was surrounded by knowledge and power hidden in the pages. With his friends among the characters and personalities. 

This morning, when he hadn't been completely awake yet, it had felt like he was a different person under the covers, as if what he touched was the skin of a lizard instead of his own—Loki’s pristine and scar-free skin—and the gave him an idea. 

He knew mages of Vanaheim, and elves of Alfheim could shapeshift into different beings, into animals, disguising themselves. Therefore just shifting his own skin into that unblemished pristine skin would be so much more simpler. A spell much lighter and easier to uphold. 

And Thor no doubt would appreciate it, seeing his lovely Loki, beautiful and without a reminder of lightning etched into his chest.

There were several books on shifting into animals, of changing gender and of altering one’s appearance as well. Loki looked through several personal journals of those having written the latter books, to see their successes and failures at changing their appearance; to know how long they could keep the altered looks.

Reading well into night, Loki was confident that he could pull this off. Yes, it was advanced magic, but he was more than sure, that desperation would only aid him in his quest. Perhaps it was reckless, but he didn’t care about that. He needed to get rid of these scars.

Taking the two most useful books with him to his rooms, Loki wanted to start on the magics then and there, but knew that it would be less effective while he was tired, and better to do it with morning light shining on him, to make sure any trace of the scars would vanish. 

 

~~  
He woke next morning with great anticipation for the day, for conquering a new branch of magic and excelling at it.

It also meant taking the tunic off and looking at the scars again. If it were only him, he could bear them, even learn to live with them, but it wasn’t just him in this relationship. It was him and Thor. And Loki knew that Thor left because he couldn’t even look at him; that he cried about losing Loki, about what they had together. 

Loki had fallen in love with Thor such a long time ago and so completely that he kept avoiding the fact that it should have been a sexual relationship only, where they could not stay away from one another. A no strings attached way of fucking out their frustrations and lust with each other. He kept telling himself that Thor loved him as well, and the obligation to sire an heir could be solved—he had already taken the first steps yesterday towards it with the shapeshifting books.

Frigga visited him for breakfast, acting as usual, making him feel more at ease than the last few days. A flowing conversation, breakfast goods and knowledge that soon the scars will be gone as well put him in a good mood.

Rereading the relevant passages once more, Loki gathered magic and focused on a little freckle he has on his left hand. Putting magic in the working, the freckle shimmered and then vanished, as if sucked into his skin. Exhaling in relief Loki touched the place where it used to be and was now only unblemished skin.

He let go of the working, watching as the freckle shimmered once more into being. Loki smiled and tried the same thing again—erasing the mark and then bringing it back after waiting for a while, to see if any magic was being drained from a longer working. Even waiting for an hour, staring at his own hand, he could not feel any of his magic draining. Then again the surface area was so small there was no wonder he didn’t feel anything.

Loki decided to test out the working on the scars themselves next. He knew he could release the magic and make the working drop at any moment, so there was no point trying it out again on something in a halfway size.

He was confident it would hold, and could wait and see how much magic holding the working required. All the books agreed that once shifted the new look should be almost permanent, at least until more magic was applied to shift back or to shift into something completely different.

Ready to get on with it, Loki took a deep breath and pulled the tunic over his head, revealing his scars. Softly gasping, he almost touched them, where they radiated outwards from his heart, creating a likeness to a tree, reminding Loki of Yggdrasil, upside down, its branches reaching all corners of the universe. 

Dropping a hand, Loki looked down, where those two tendrils ran down, one to his right knee, the other—obscenely—to his cock. Sighing, Loki loosened the string on the breeches and let them pool at his feet.

Here he was, on display for all the world to see, his mirror image looking at him right back. Scarred, but still proud. Loved, and now abandoned. Loki tried, but could not resent Thor for leaving. This was a mess for himself to solve. Wishing for Thor to be here with his pitying looks, bound to judge him, it was a lot more hurtful than he could bear at the moment.

Taking another deep breath, he gathered magic and intently staring at himself made the scars shimmer and disappear as the working did its job. This definitely required a lot more strength than a little freckle. 

Focusing more on dropping the glamour—finding the test successful and ready to apply it permanently in the morning—Loki watched as the skin rippled the scars appearing back until his entire skin seemed to darken, changing hue, going dark and blue and he could not hold in the shout of horror and surprise.

Well the scars were now almost invisible among the raised markings of a jotun.

The bad—the shocking and breathtaking—news were that the glamour failed instead of resolving. 

Trying to breathe through the sudden constriction in his chest—no, no this wasn’t true, it wasn’t real—Loki failed to stop the flinch at his own mirror image. Gasping, he took another step closer to the mirror, unbelieving in what he saw. “This is so wrong.”

Sure, the shapeshifting would allow for this, to change his skin into something, even someone else, but this wasn’t his intention. He did make a wicked jotun out of himself, he had to agree. Laughing under his breath, Loki stepped even closer to the mirror, looking all over himself; the red eyes, the markings running over his blue blue skin. 

From what he knew of frost giants they should freeze everything they touched, but the floor he was standing on was unchanged. Holding up a hand Loki moved his fingers closer to the mirror finally touching the pads to the surface. No frost appeared, but no perspiration marks either—it was like he was room temperature. 

Loki chuckled and stepped away, ready to return to his own skin. As fun as it could be to use this sudden revelation, perhaps to scare Thor shitless, it was time to return to his own skin. It may be scarred and make him recoil, it was still his own skin, instead of this jotun mockery.

Focusing again, Loki gathered his magic to drop this unintended working—why his subconscious mind had chosen to turn him into a jotun was an intriguing question, but better to be answered at a different time, and perhaps while imbibing a sizable jug of mead. Closing his eyes, he focused everything he had on dropping all glamours, wanting back that light, but scarred skin.

Slowly exhaling, Loki opened his eyes to see—blue skin and red eyes. Frowning, he shut them closed again and tried once more. Focus and power, adding even more to get rid of the glamour. “Not funny anymore.” Loki muttered under his breath, curling his hands into fists, ready to smash something. 

Opening his eyes again—no, no, this wasn’t true, it can’t be—he cursed aloud, turning his back to the mirror, unwilling to look at that blue skin again. His scars may mash together with jotun markings, but the joke was long over, and it was time to go back to what he had seen in the mirror his entire life growing up. 

Staring intently at the floor, his blue feet in his field of vision, Loki gathered even more magic, clearing his mind out of everything else, and completely focusing on dropping the glamour. That one insidious thought that plagued him since he first looked at his own blue skin—no, no, this isn’t true, it can’t be—it haunted him, but had no right to distract him. 

Taking a deep breath, staring at his feet, Loki used everything he had to drop the glamour, to get rid of it.

Deep down knowing that there was no glamour to drop, that this was true, yes, this is what he is.

A jotun.

A frost giant.

Thor’s brother is a frost giant.

It seemed wrong, like a sick joke, but Loki knew it to be true already. It was why summer heat always made him wish for snow, why he had to try so much more to gain recognition in Odin’s eyes. It was all the things that set him apart here.

He would always tell himself that Odin gave more support to Thor, because Thor was better at it, because he was the eldest and was destined to become Asgards king one day. And Thor was better, he was good at it, making Loki love him for it instead of resenting him.

He would always tell himself that his health was simply poor and heat was ridiculous anyway, not everyone’s biology was the same, there was nothing wrong with him for preferring colder weather.

This explained it, confirmed a non-existent suspicion. 

Laughing hysterically, Loki fell to his knees, looking at his hands. The markings resembled his scars, making him gasp out loud again, “Look at what you have done.” Wishing away measly scars turned him into something far worse. 

His brother was no longer his brother, his father no longer his father, and his mother—oh Frigga—was no longer his mother. 

It hurt. Like his soul was being rent in half. 

They had lied, there was no other explanation. Perhaps not Thor, Loki knew that Thor was too honest by far. He could lie to others when it suited him, but Loki knew him too well.

Odin. And Frigga. They lied and hid this truth from him.

Curling inwards Loki shuddered, his laughter soon turned into howling, full of despair and the realization that somewhere out there were frost giants, that were his parents, perhaps a brother and a sister who were missing him.

With a shout he flung magic in all directions, shattering the mirror, overturning furniture and making the curtains flutter out the window. Something heavy crashed on the other side of the room, scattering items over the floor, but Loki was beyond caring. He felt his eyes water, heavy droplets falling on the floor through his palms cupped over his face.

He dreaded Thor’s return. Finding a frost giant in Loki’s rooms was bound to cause destruction and probably even more uncontrolled lightning. Better not to think about Thor. Loki knew that scars would have turned Thor away from him, but this? This would be cause for immediate death. 

Loki had never feared Thor not even after waking up in the healing halls, but being in this skin, in the middle of Asgard terrified him. 

Perhaps he could talk Thor down, but if someone else, perhaps a guard saw him, it would end before he could even plead for mercy. No one would show him mercy here.

Exhausted from tears and all the magical energy he had spent, Loki finally crawled to bed and got under the covers. At least in the dark he could pretend that nothing had changed. Closing his eyes, he was tracing the scars like an old friend. 

The day was not even half over and he was already done with it, unwilling to leave his bed. 

Turning over, mashing his nose in the pillow, inhaling Thor’s scent, which was waning with every day his brother—not brother—was away, he finally succumbed to sleep.

Better to sleep this whole nightmare away. And wake again as himself, light skin and scars on his chest.

 

~~  
Loki woke up heavy and still tired; oversleeping and magical exhaustion went hand in hand. He groaned, pushing hair out of his eyes, and froze. The hand was still blue. Closing his eyes, he whined and dropped the hand back on the covers. 

If he kept his eyes closed then it all could be a lie, couldn’t it? It was a false vision, that blue hand. Not true.

Turning over, Loki pulled the covers over his head, unwilling to face the day. 

He managed to skip out on peeing for a long time, but he could no longer hold it. Taking the covers with him, Loki stumbled into the bathroom, turning the lights out, plunging the entire room into darkness. Unable to see anything was a blessing at the moment. 

Finally taking a step out of the bathroom, Loki surveyed the room. Mirror shards littered the floor, a table was overturned, scattering the books from the library over the floor, open and face down, pages creased. He felt pain looking at them; so much more than his own cruelty to books it was the knowledge hidden inside that hurt him; the knowledge that unlocked this secret, turning his skin blue. 

Testing his magic, Loki sent a working towards the mirror, watching as all the shards gathered closer together, forming the mirror back in its frame. After finishing, he slumped against the doorway. Magic was still low, and he knew that him feeling so raw didn’t help matters. Breathing evenly, he gathered the covers closer to him, like a cape.

Eventually he moved across the room, dropping the covers on the ground and sitting naked on the windowsill gathering his knees to his chest and looking out to Asgard. Knowing that he could never rejoin them like this. 

He didn’t hear the door or the soft gasp from behind him. 

The hand on his shoulder made him gasp and tense and close his eyes, finally feeling the tears that had been trickling down his cheeks. 

“Oh, Loki.” 

He didn’t know what he expected but a hug wasn’t it. He couldn’t stop the tears or make himself look into Frigga’s eyes. Hitching a breath, “Hello, my queen.”

“No ‘queen’, only your mother.” She gathered him closer, running a hand up and down his back.

Snorting through the tears, Loki said, “Didn’t know you were a frost giant as well. Or was it an affair with a frost giant that made me happen?”

Squeezing him closer, Frigga whispered into his ear, “I get your wish to lash out, but that was rude.”

“Sorry, my queen.” Loki stiffened in Frigga’s arms, feeling contrite. If there was one person he never wanted to offend it was her.

“Try again.”

Taking a deep breath, burrowing his forehead in Frigga’s shoulder, “Sorry, mother.”

“Much better.” Frigga said, before releasing him from the hug. She didn’t go far, still holding on his shoulders, looking over him. “How did this happen?”

Loki smiled, letting one of his hands touch the scars over his chest—almost invisible among the markings, “Shapeshifting. I wanted to hide the scars. Make Thor come back. Trying to drop the glamour over the scars, well, it ended differently than I expected.”

“Oh, Loki.” Frigga swiped a tear away from his face, leaning closer to kiss his forehead. “This wasn’t supposed to be how you found out.”

“Hmm. And how was I supposed to know that I’m a frost giant in the middle of Asgards court?” He could come up with at least four different versions of how he ended up here, but decided to let Frigga—mother—explain.

Halfway through her story, he finally realized that he’d been sitting there naked and crouched down, blushing, to get the covers. 

When she was done with her tale, Loki was standing once again in front of the mirror, suppressing the flinch from looking at the monster in the mirror, trying to realize that it was only him. He didn’t feel anywhere close to jovial amusement he felt yesterday while looking at the same blue skin for the first time. “Why didn’t you tell me? You could have told me instead of lying.” Looking over his shoulder, meeting her eyes, wishing to understand.

“We tried to protect you. I know we should have told you sooner, but we didn’t out of love.”

Closing his eyes, Loki tried to decide which stung him more, Odin stealing him from his home realm and treating him less favourably than Thor, or Frigga taking him in and giving him attention and love and still lying to him. He was leaning towards the latter, but unwilling to say so aloud. “Hm.” Better to table this discussion for sometime later. 

“I do love you Loki, no matter how you look like. I love you for you.” Frigga came closer to hug him again, not letting go when Loki tried to step back, wanting to disbelieve what she said. “There is nothing frightening or monstrous about you.” Frigga whispered into his ear, making him tense up. But his mother knew well enough how he thought to say this. Finally relaxing in her arms, Loki sighed.

There was no way to undo this, to become not-jotun. He knew that once his magic returned he could reapply his, well, not regular skin, but the glamour that’s been over him since he was a little babe. No wonder the shapeshifting came so easy to him, and nowhere near difficult as the mages in the books described. He was a natural at it.

Perhaps he could try mastering other forms of shapeshifting after this as well. It was worth pursuing. 

Watching Frigga pick up the books scattered on the floor, Loki rushed to help her to put the room back together. Finding his breeches he pulled them on and went to put the table to rights. Only now he noticed the platter of food, piled with all of his favourites by the door. Not showing up for dinner had worried his mother enough that she had come for a visit. And instead of sullen scared Loki she got her jotun foundling instead. 

Sighing he pulled two chairs up to the table and sat down when Frigga went to get the platter. Trying various things turned out of be even more intriguing than he expected. Some tastes were more strong then usual, the meats and some of the fruit, while a specific recipe of cheese was even blander than usual, making him pull a face after taking a bit out of it. 

He soon realized that he no longer could appreciate grapes, but could taste apples in every recipe they were in, craving them even more. 

When Frigga finally left, with a kiss on his cheek and another hug, Loki was still hungry a bit. Finding a long-sleeved tunic, he put on the same cape he ventured outside in just a few days ago and went down to the kitchens. At this time of day they were blessedly empty, dinner time long over and everyone had left to their homes, not expected back until early morning.

Getting into the pantry, Loki stopped in the middle of the room and closed his eyes, before taking in several deep breaths. His sense of smell was definitely keener than usual. He could smell more apples, freshly gathered sometime this day, ready to be made into a pie for tomorrow’s breakfast. 

Something smelled sharp and unpleasant, something right next to a most delicious fresh smell. Moving in that direction, he completely disregarded whichever was that unpleasant food, completely focusing on the freshness, feeling saliva gathering in his mouth. 

Right at the shelf he felt the temperature go down, and seeing the ice, suddenly understanding—Jotunheim was a land of ice and frozen things, but deep down under that ice were lakes and rivers and oceans filled with life. Fish and mammals and cephalopods living in a variety of water types. Right in front of him was half a salmon, cleaned of guts, it’s orange fillet half covered with ice chips. Up close it smelled even better, making his mouth water. 

He was sure the cooks would be upset about it going missing since it was obviously cleaned in advance for another breakfast dish, but the hunger overtook all rational thought and Loki ate it up raw, finding the taste like something long forgotten, like coming home from long travels, finally getting to sleep in your own bed, and eating your favorite breakfast foods. 

After the salmon, Loki moved along the pantry shelves, trying morsels of this and that, when he finally got to the side where the apples were. Every step in that direction was delightful, the apples luring him closer and closer, promising that fresh yet tart taste, their smell making him humm a tune all apple gatherers in the orchards liked to sing during harvest. 

Loki idly wondered what songs did the frost giants sing when fishing, what structures hid under all of that ice in Jotunheim. He was absolutely sure that for a realm the size of Jotunheim there were different peoples and culture, not just the fabled giants that supposedly ate little Asgardian boys and girls who misbehaved. 

He suddenly froze, while reaching towards a shelf—he wasn’t the only jotun thing in this realm. There was the Casket of Ancient Winters in the Vault as well, gathering dust. The supposed power of the frost giants, taken from them, along with Loki.

Taking in a deep breath and releasing it, Loki decided to go there sometime tomorrow. Nighttime was better for wandering around, especially until his magic returned enough to put the glamour back on.

Stuffing two apples into his pockets, he bit into a third and grabbed a bottle of apple wine from one shelf higher before leaving the kitchens. 

He wasn’t yet ready to confront Odin or going to breakfast with both of his parents, and knew that Frigga most likely will come to him in the morning. Returning to his room, he left one of the apples and the wine on the table before dropping his clothes and crawling under the covers. It seemed strange to put on sleeping clothes ever since his skin changed. 

Gradually, especially outside his rooms, the palace seemed warmer than it should be during this season. It was better at night, especially in the pantry, next to all of that ice, cooling everything down. 

Perhaps a long cold bath in the morning, Loki thought before falling asleep.

 

~~  
Breakfast was much more lively than a mere week ago. Frigga had seen his preferences yesterday and there was no cheese or grapes among the selection. Instead there was seafood and apples, including a curiously empty dish, where something made out of salmon was supposed to be, but according to Frigga, some thief had taken some of the fish last night so there wasn’t enough left for Loki. 

He blushed, trying to change the topic of conversation and pretend not to feel guilty about it. 

After Frigga left, Loki tidied up the room and went to ready a bath. He poured the coldest water he could manage, and sticking one hand into it, focused on ice. Knowing that frost giant warriors could do it, meaning he could do it as well. Thinking of endless fields of ice, of water trickling in a cave, falling from icicles in the ceiling, freezing soon after reaching the ground, of glaciers scraping against one another.

His hand felt colder and looking down he saw water nearest it turning more solid, into ice. Breaking it apart, Loki shoved it aside and suck his hand back into water, going at it again. More ice formed around his hand in the water, and even some where he was clutching the side of the bath. Gasping he let go of it, balancing on his knees, pulling both hands closer and looking over the palms. 

There were tiny ducts along his finger from where the ice was forming. Letting ice grow, he found that he can direct it, making it into a dagger of sorts. “Wicked.” Smiling to himself, he broke the dagger against the side of the bath and let it plunge into water. 

Getting rid of his breeches, Loki stepped into the bath—it was sizable, enough for three people normally, or just him and Thor. The water was the perfect temperature, perhaps it would be better even a bit colder, but at the moment, floating among the ice seemed like a successful working, or jumping down a waterfall after a day of riding, sleeping under the apple trees in the orchard next to Thor during harvest. 

Usually baths for him were a tedious process, made more fun when it was him and Thor in a bath, but right now, it was blissful and he knew he would spend hours in the water, creating more ice to make it colder.

Frigga had promised to have dinner delivered to his door and left there if he wasn’t yet ready to dine with both of them. She didn’t know when Thor would be back, but did try to tell him that Thor would understand, and love Loki no matter how he looked. He tried, he really did, but couldn’t make himself believe her. 

Drinking some of the apple wine with dinner put him in a good mood, and Loki promised himself that he could go to the Vault tomorrow. Because he knew that going to the Vault meant finally confronting Odin, and he still wasn’t ready for that. Better to delay and focus on much more fun things. Finishing another glass, Loki fell back down on the bed, just staring at the ceiling, recalling all the times he and Thor would lie here together.

Just thinking about Thor—pushing away the thoughts of a possibly murderous rage at seeing a frost giant in Loki’s rooms—brought heat to his cheeks, the blush turning his skin purple in places. 

Softly gasping, Loki got more comfortable on the bed, his head hitting the pillow, pushing the covers onto the ground, wiggling in the bedsheets so that no limbs got over the edge.

He let his hands travel from his hips and up, trying to map out the new skin under the palms. Just touching pads of his fingers to skin made him shiver a bit; goosebumps showing up, making him gasp once more. It felt like temperature play, just running his fingers across the skin. And, oh, the markings—they were even more sensitive. They also felt alive in a way. 

Even with his magic so depleted, Loki could feel power running through those lines. Prodding a bit, and drawing on the meagre reserves he had accumulated while asleep, Loki felt the marking lines respond, hardening and going cold. Now they were definitely not sensitive, even numb to touch, proving to be a natural armor. That did explain why frost giants didn’t really have clothes or external armour. The markings were a physical extension on magical shields tied to their biology. 

Ingenius, Loki could admit that. And wondered if he could go visit Jotunheim at some point, this all pointing to the fact that there was magical knowledge to be gained there.

Running fingers up and down the markings, he soothed the lines, bringing the numbness down and sensitivity up. The coldness and a bit of ice that had appeared, melted, the droplets making his skin glisten in the evening light shining in through the window.

Tracing the markings upwards, he encountered where the lightning scars were—they had turned completely into the jotun markings—breaking up the intricate design that was on this blue skin before the accident. He supposed that he’ll never know how they looked originally. But right now they looked even more like Yggdrasil. 

The long scar line running downwards on his left side stood out a bit more that the one on the right; it somehow was thicker. Touching his fingers to it, Loki traced it down and down, right to his cock, which was curving gently upwards already, half-hard just from the exploratory touches.

Rubbing in little circles where the scar ended on the left side like a little arrow pointing right to his pleasure center, Loki could not keep his eyes away from the cock. Looking as it twitched whenever his fingers brushed at it, then biting down on his lip when precome started beading at the tip. The clear fluid eventually trickling down, over the head, creating a tantalizing line downwards. Catching the drop, Loki licked it off his finger. Salty, but fresh, like fresh snow or hard packed ice in a cavern. 

Moving the hand back, he circled the fingers around the cock, lightly squeezing at it. He gasped aloud, arching his back at the pleasure. Loki let his other hand grab onto the bedsheets, somewhere to hold on while he broke under the onslaught of pleasure. Squeezing once more, he started moving the hand up and down. It looked exactly like his own cock before, simply blue and purple where blood rushed, but the sensations were stronger, much more than usually when he played with himself. 

He could usually achieve the same sensuality with a potion or steeping specific plants into a tea, but this came naturally. 

Loki had to chuckle—if he had known he was a jotun during adolescence he would have spent all the time with a hand around his cock, never leaving his rooms for studies or training, and knew that Thor would have definitely joined him in exploring all of these sensations together.

Just thinking about Thor brought an ache to his heart. He would have loved to share this exploration with his brother, but Thor had ran away from his scars. Loki hoped for the best when his brother eventually returned, but decided to prepare for the worst. Better to be pleasantly surprised than bitterly disappointed.

Banishing thoughts about future!Thor, Loki focused back on past!Thor and how much he loved Loki’s cock. Moaning aloud he stopped rubbing and moved to play with the cockhead. Smearing through the gathered precome, he moved his fingers back and forth, across the slit; playing with the foreskin where everything was slippery. He didn’t even notice his own hips undulating, wanting to thrust up. Oh, this felt like bliss. 

Releasing the other hand, where it was clutching the sheets, he brought it closer to his cock, caressing downwards, past the root, and cupping the balls, then squeezing them. Moaning once again aloud, Loki worked both hands in tandem, rubbing and squeezing until he came. 

Breathing harshly, he observed how good the come looked in droplets on his blue skin, like a snowdrift across a frozen over lake. His cock now felt oversensitive, and even hotter than before, making him wish for ice cubes to run over it. 

Loki almost smacked himself in the face, like the clueless frost giant that he was, before rubbing his fingers together and watching them create ice. He brought the much colder hand to his cock. “Ohhh!” 

The cold touch was perfectly exquisite, making him moan aloud and start to harden again. His stamina was good in his own skin, but this was so much more. It was usually Thor who would stay hard between several bouts of sex, making it into a marathon for them. Loki usually was quickly oversensitive and they would focus on other aspects of pleasure, before tackling his cock again.

This changed so many things, and Loki feared for how long he and Thor would go at it once this whole mess was resolved. 

Letting ice gather, Loki stroked his cock, imagining Thor sucking him through orgasm after orgasm.

Biting even harder at his bottom lip, Loki finally let his hand travel further. Tickling at the perineum, the hand went lower, lightly tracing over his puckered hole. Thor's lips there felt like an orgasm on their own, but thinking about that hot breath made him shiver. 

Circling the hole with iced over fingers felt amazing, but Loki wanted the heat back—wanted to overwhelm the senses. Turning over in the bed, he reached into his bedside table, pulling open the drawer. It was definitely not for sensitive eyes, filled with a couple of pairs of frilly panties, a length of silk rope, at least one cock cage, several toys and a leather collar, that looked good on both him and Thor, as well as different brands of slick. 

He could not decide if he liked better the slick made in Alfheim or lube made in Midgard. Both realms were somehow obsessed with sex much more than Loki anticipated. Some of the toys in the drawer were from one realm, some from the other, both trying to outdo the other, not even aware that they were in competition. 

Loki would gladly spend his days testing products from them both, especially taking into the account his newfound sensitivity. And temperature play was bumped up higher in things he enjoyed. Loki let a smirk spread into a full blown smile when he touched those iced over fingers to his oversensitive cockhead.

Finally choosing an apple flavoured lube from Midgard, Loki flopped back in the bed, arranging the pillows to recline at them. For a moment he toyed with the idea of mirrors, putting them above and in front of him, but that sort of exibitionism usually looked better with a partner. 

Opening up the lube, he inhaled deeply—even if they were artificial apples, they did smell very nice. Slicking up his fingers, Loki brought then to his hole, circling around the rim, before pushing in. Adding more lube, he got one finger in, moaning at the heat and pressure. Curling it, he wanted to hit the prostate.

“Aaaaah!” 

It was definitely much more sensitive right now than before. 

Biting at his lip once more, Loki carefully exhaled and rubbed at the prostate again, moving the fingers over it again and again, trying to keep in his moans and utterly failing. His cock was as hard as it could get, beading precome and twitching, definitely wanting to come. Keeping at eye on it, he kept rubbing at that sensitive place until he came again—his cock untouched—spurting onto his belly and panting. 

Giving himself a minute to get the breathing in order, Loki resolved to come once more, just because he could.

Slicking up three fingers, he pushed two again inside, letting the third trace his rim, cooling the fingertip down, making ice and creating a shocking contrast between inside and outside. He gasped out loud, clenching on his own fingers, feeling fuller at the same time. 

After a long continuous teasing, he finally pushed the third finger inside as well. Ice quickly melted inside, filling him up even more, the full sensation making him gasp and moan and shiver all over. It was overwhelming and he never wanted to stop.

If Thor were here, he would also add those delicious sparks of lightning to it. Loki was positive that he would not die of old age but of complete sexual gratification instead. Well. It was a memorable way to go. And very Loki, if he would say so. (Future Loki completely agrees with him on this.)

Prodding at his prostate with all three fingers, Loki grabbed his cock with the other hand starting to stroke it, squeezing at the head with quick downward movements. Creating more ice on the fingers inside him, Loki spread them open, while at the same time squeezing at his cock—coming with a shout all over his hand—panting breathlessly; falling backwards into pillows boneless and satiated.

Loki was sure sleep tonight would be perfect. Drowsiness overtook him, but he knew that he should clean up. Grumbling under his breath, Loki pulled himself out of the bed and went for a quick shower. On the way back, poured a glass of the apple wine, tossing it back quickly, and grabbed the bed covers where they had fallen next to his bed.

Tomorrow he promised himself to read through the shapeshifting books some more, to learn from other masters about their trials with this. Perhaps he could add a sneaky trip to the library as well, there’s bound to be books on Jotunheim there. 

And after dinner—well—after dinner it would be time for the Vault. If Loki was exactly who Frigga said he was, then the Casket of Ancient Winters was his.

 

~~

Loki spent next morning sitting on his windowsill, wearing only his breeches and reading through a lengthy list of failures in shapeshifting, which gave him several ideas for future attempts when his magic finally was fully back. He felt already better today, but knew it would take at least three more days to be able to apply and hold the glamour of a light skinned Loki. 

But sitting here, in this already familiar blue skin, he felt so much more like himself, making the Loki of a week ago seem like an old forgotten memory of different times. Perhaps—no, he couldn’t, could he? Could he announce himself to the court like this? Brazenly walking down the corridors in the same billowy light breeches and a sleeveless tunic, showing off all of that skin? 

Propriety said no, but the look he imagined Odin would make when he strutted into breakfast like that would be absolutely worth it. 

The dread of Thor’s reaction was still there, but he was determined to stand his ground. 

He was a jotun, a frost giant, and no one should deny that.

The windowsill was padded with a moss green cushion making it the perfect place to sit and read something he didn’t have to take notes for. The weather in Asgard was always pleasant, and the windowsill always gave him the best view of Thor whenever he spread out on his bed, putting his legs obscenely wide, or sometimes laying on his belly showcasing that lovely round butt of his, tempting Loki to drop what he was reading and go lick at it like the most delicious treat.

Loki leaned against the window frame, letting his gaze roam across Asgard, trying to guess where Thor was right now—was he in one of the taverns somewhere in the city, avoiding coming back to the palace, fucking through everyone willing? Or was he in the far off mountains, felling a boar, skinning it for a pelt? Was he even on Asgard? 

Loki entertained the idea of going to the Observatory and asking Heimdall, but after yesterday’s fun without any magic to hide him from the watchman’s sight, perhaps it wasn’t the best idea. If there was someone Loki was almost sure knew about him and Thor, it was Heimdall. Thor wasn’t exactly subtle, but in the throes of passion the same could be said about him as well.

Deciding that Thor would return when it best suited him, Loki went to the library. The halls were much more filled with people and guards, but his hurried gait, hands full of books and the cape hiding him away kept everyone at bay.

Surprisingly the library held much more material on Jotunheim than Loki expected. He somehow had completely forgotten that Bestla, Odin’s mother, was jotun herself, making Thor a quarter jotun himself. Giggling at that thought, Loki tried to imagine Thor in the same blue skin he now sported. 

Gathering Bestla’s memoirs of her life on Jotunheim, as well as several texts which were bilingual—the Allspeak was far reaching, but there were still local languages, especially written one’s on each of the realms—Loki went back to his rooms. He was determined to learn the language of frost giants as well, building up his wish to visit his home realm some time soon. 

He was interested in other magic users in Jotunheim, as well as exactly what the Casket could do when used. The legend thrown around by the battle hardened Asgardians during the feasts was that frost giants wished to take over Midgard—extending their territory perhaps? 

Sure, the frost giants were powerful and Caskett supposedly as well, but could they have really taken over all of Midgard? It was rather sizable. In any case, Odin had shut that venture down, taking their source of power. And now Loki was ready to claim it. 

If his possible visit to Jotunheim went well, perhaps the two realms could open up talks and eventually call a truce. It was something he was already invested in. Sure, there were ways into every realm if Loki so wished, the paths along Yggdrasil allowed him travel towards many places, but until now he had never had cause to go to that frozen realm of Asgard’s enemies.

But they were enemies no longer, were they? To Loki they were his kin. 

Bestla wrote about what foods she missed, including several species of something between a salmon and a starfish inexplicably—and much bigger in size than any species in Asgard’s lakes and rivers. 

There was an attempt to draw the thing next to the description, it’s air bubbles running through text above it, making Loki smile at the scene he imagined: his grandmother, recalling her home realm, writing her memories like a story for her kids. 

There were descriptions of clans and families ruling Jotunheim in her day; there was no mention of Laufey, but there was someone named Utgard Loki, making him stop at the sentence and trace the letters in the name, wondering if he was named after this Loki, or perhaps Loki was a common name on Jotunheim, trying not to cry on the pages about how his life would have been growing up in Jotunheim, among the ice and eating the salmon-starfish hybrid, perhaps visiting the Utgard Loki during harvest. 

But there would have been no Thor in Jotunheim. And Loki could not imagine growing up without Thor. 

Taking a break from Bestla’s memories, Loki closed his eyes recalling his and Thor’s childhood, among the sun and gold of the palace, during harvest in the fields and orchards, sunning in mother’s gardens and spying on Odin during Council meetings from under a table, where they thought themselves well hidden, but actually very audible from all the giggling they were doing.

As much as Loki had missed out on regarding Jotunheim, he was still raised Asgardian—Thor’s brother, Frigga’s and Odin’s son. 

Now he had the opportunity to learn about what Jotunheim had to offer and decide how much he wanted to take for himself, what he wanted to change in how he presented himself and what he should still strive for. 

 

~~  
After dinner, when the palace was once again settling into sleep, the hallways empty, Loki set out for the Vault. 

He was aware that as soon as he took a step into the Vault, Odin would be on his way, probably fearing what Loki in his rage would do. What he didn’t know was that Loki had no plan to rage—talking with Frigga had calmed most of his feeling seeped in anger, leaving behind betrayal and hurt. Loki wanted Odin to explain and apologize, but knew that he might not get that wish. 

In any case there was bound to be talking, perhaps a little shouting as well. 

Hiding himself from sight, Loki got past the guards, finding himself in the Vault, on the downward stairs, just looking over the treasures gathered (pillaged and stolen, left here to collect dust). Some of them were truly better left here, out of someone’s ambitions for world destruction, but there were enough things that could do good out there. 

Mjolnir was on his left, a shining light, marking Thor’s future—if he would come back to claim it. Walking further, Loki watched the grid cautiously. He didn’t want to encounter the Destroyer, but knew that if worse came to worst, he could definitely use the Casket to freeze it. But he suspected that Odin was already on his way, and the confrontation would not be far off.

Finally standing by the Casket, Loki took a deep breath and let it out. It was exuding powerful energy, as if inviting him to use it, to hold onto it, to take it out in the world. He realized that if he were still in his light Aesir skin, a single touch would reveal his true jotun nature. 

Loki did not want to imagine a different scenarios of how he found about this. They all felt like they would end in disaster. A future where Thor gained Mjolnir and they sneaked off to the Vault to take it up together, and somehow stumbling onto the Casket—Thor would likely blast him with the hammer before asking questions. Perhaps much later, when Thor was already king and Odin finally spilled all his secrets. 

Or perhaps they would venture into Jotunheim and encounter frost giants. Now that would end badly, a surprise of that magnitude to be discovered among his kin, probably during a battle. No, better not to think about such futures. They were never going to come true anyway, no longer.

Circling his prize, Loki heard the doors open at the end of the hallway, smirking. Odin was predictable after all. Straightening his spine, Loki—skin blue, wearing his breeches and a sleeveless tunic, having dropped the cape on the ground nearby—stood there, right next to the Casket of Ancient Winters.

It sang to him, in a language long forgotten and again remembered, talking about legends of old and power of the future. 

Waiting until Odin came closer—with two Einherjar behind him—with an obviously suspicious look on all of their faces face, Loki said, “Father.” 

That made Odin almost stumble and come to a complete stop, making the guards take a step back so as not to run him over. Definitely not what his father expected to hear. Both guards exchanged glances, but stayed silent. This would be prime gossip at breakfast tomorrow.

“What? Did you think I would deny you?” Tilting his head to the side, Loki extended his hand and finally touched the Casket, gently smiling at it. It seemed overjoyed by the presence of another magical being with the same origin as itself. “No. You raised me and taught me. You are still a father. Perhaps not the best one, your lies linger and hurt. But, well. I am your son and forever will be.”

Odin had finally regained his wits and was slowly edging closer, looking from Loki’s face to his bare blue arms and then to the Casket, finally deeply sighing. “Your mother, bless her, knows how to explain things. I, well—”

“Are not very good at apologizing.” Loki interrupted him, then letting go the Casket. His fingers wanted to linger, as did the Casket from the way its song turned mournful. “Were you ever planning on telling me?” Turning away from the Casket, Loki looked right at Odin, wanting to see his face, whether there would be more lies or finally some contrition about this entire situation.

“I did.” Odin nodded, before getting a slightly faraway look in his eyes, “But then I got to know you, little Loki, curious and getting underfoot, wanting for knowledge. You were nothing like I expected, and I just thought—that I would never have to bring this up.”

“Living in a pretty lie.” 

“Perhaps not the whole truth, but every memory we shared together was true.” Odin sighed, averting his eyes, looking at the Casket. “What do you intend to do?”

Finally a direct question. As least it wasn’t an outright no on his right to use the Casket. Smiling a bit, Loki, looked over Odin’s shoulder, where the two Einherjar were actively pretending not to hear the entire conversation for purposes of repeating it verbatim to everyone they’ll meet in the next two months.

“Peace talks with Jotunheim. If all goes well, it should return there.” Looking over his father, Loki tried to imagine Odin himself using the Casket; after all he was a powerful magic user in his own right and jotun blood ran through his veins.

Odin’s frown turned into disbelief, his mouth open the slightest bit, eyebrows raised.

“Before you forbid it, let me try.” Loki said. This called for more underhanded tactics then suddenly showing up with an incursion force. And Loki wanted to see if Utgard Loki was still alive. Thinking about Laufey’s fate made him nervous, but better to tackle that after finding allies in Jotunheim.

“Alright.” Odin agreed, giving out a long suffering sigh, one usually preceding something he and Thor suggested together—truthfully, most of those suggestions were sigh-worthy. Maybe not all of them, but most.

 

~~  
Two days later found Loki enjoying the shade in mother’s garden, reading one of Bestla’s journals. Odin had even more of them in his private library and gladly had given them to Loki after he asked about her during yesterday’s breakfast. 

Everyone at the palace, and surely in the surrounding taverns and businesses was aware of the sudden change in prince Loki. There were whispers in hallways, the guards unable to keep their eyes off of him when he went some place. 

All in all the consensus was positive—even slightly condemning towards Odin for keeping up the lies, but there were enough grumbles that the jotun foundling should have been sent whence it came from. Older warriors, those who had been at the battle all those years ago, would flinch, as if ready to pull a sword or an axe, ready to deal with the intruder, before remembering who it was that stood before them. Thankfully there weren’t many of them.

He did regret scaring a bunch of kids this morning, but already he could see at least two of them peering at him from behind a thick hedge, supposedly doing surveillance. Just for them Loki conjured several bluebirds, watching in delight as the kids laughed and smiled at that. He hoped that he was forgiven, and the kids would return, curious about him instead of fearful.

Putting down the journal, Loki lay down—he had found one of Thor’s cloaks in his room and couldn’t not take it with him while walking through the palace. Just the thought of Thor brought him memories and comfort.

Loki closed his eyes, remembering all the times they would almost be caught in these very gardens, with no clothes on. He was remembering Thor’s loud footsteps while they were trying to sneak away that the actual footsteps he heard almost didn’t register.

What he did notice was the sudden lightning spark hitting him in the ankle. 

Opening his eyes, Loki saw Thor—the real Thor, there he is, back at the palace—looming over him, uncontrolled sparks falling from his hands into the grass and one in a while hitting his feet; his face confused and almost angry.

“Thor!” Loki exclaimed, pulling himself into a sitting position. “You’re back! When did you get back?” 

“What is this?” Thor curled his fists, stopping most of the sparks, peering intently at Loki, “Brother?” The anger had vanished, leaving only confusion.

“Ah. Right.” Loki rubbed at his forehead. Thor did miss his big revelation. Deep down Loki wished that his brother was here while he was dealing with the despair of it, but he was also immensely glad that Thor didn’t see him crying and moping about it. 

“Well, how shall I put it—” His eyes running over the gardens and people walking among the paths, looking for a distraction. “Umm. I’m, heh, well, you’re not going to believe it, but it’s true. And please don’t go running yelling at mother and father—here goes nothing. I’m your brother, I am, and I love you, but I’m not your biological brother, as you can probably guess.” He tried gesturing at his own skin, at the same time grimacing at how bad he suddenly turned at explaining something. 

He was usually exceptional at explaining things to Thor, but somehow this felt like a troll blundering through a hedge maze. But it was truthful and from his heart.

Thor was standing there, looking over him with big eyes, until he suddenly turned around and yelled, “Father!”

Loki had to shove his face into his hand, sighing. He picked up his pace, running after Thor, who was already at the edge of terrace. By the time he got to it, Thor was yelling at both Frigga and Odin, over their early lunch. Catching up to him, Loki tried calling Thor’s name. When that failed he came up behind Thor and made ice on his fingers appear before putting both hands under his brother’s tunic.

With a shout, Thor almost doubled over, before turning towards him with the most dumbfounded look Loki had ever seen on his face. At least he was no longer shouting at anyone. “What was that for?”

“I thank you for your outrage, but please stop. I’ve talked to them both about this, and there’s no need to shout.” Loki held up his hands, where more ice had gathered. It felt extremely pleasant, the ice on his fingers, as if he had dipped them into a cool lake on a hot summer’s day.

“It is my right as your favorite brother to be outraged on your behalf. Especially if what I’m surmising about this situation is true.” Thor shot a displeased look at their parents, as if promising them a later pick up of the shouting. 

“Thor. You are my only brother.” 

“So far. Who knows maybe you have more kin.” Thor smirked. “Therefore I’m claiming he place of your favorite brother.” 

 

~~  
After they had both joined Odin and Frigga for lunch, which Thor had so rudely interrupted, they both retreated back to Loki’s room. He sat Thor down on his bed and got comfortable on the windowsill, wanting a bit of a distance. 

Loki explained his quest to get rid of the lightning scars, not letting Thor interrupt, when he definitely wanted to say something with the saddest look he had ever seen Thor make. He explained how dropping the attempted glamour made him drop the one he had had since he was a baby, wanting to mimic the person who had taken him. How he realized that he wasn’t in fact Asgardian, but a frost giant. How Frigga had found him and explained. 

Halfway through relaying how Frigga still called him her son and that she loved him, Thor had leapt out of the bed and gotten on his knees before Loki, hugging Loki’s legs, clutching his hands and Loki’s sides, kissing his belly, “I love you as well Loki, that will never change.”

“Oh, Thor.” Loki almost melted. That was absolutely a different kind of love confession to those Thor shouted while they fucked. “I’ve loved you for so long.”

“Loki, my Loki.” Thor nuzzled into his stomach, kissing upwards, until he reached Loki’s mouth. “My beloved dear brother. I’m so sorry for leaving, about causing you pain.” At that Thor touched Loki over his heart, where his scars were thickest. “I could not look at how much I hurt you, knew you would never forgive me, so I ran away, as far as I could.”

Gasping, Loki kissed Thor back, realizing that it wasn’t him or his scars Thor was running away from, but the guilt he felt at injuring Loki. “Thor, I forgive you, I forgive you. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was.” Thor kissed Loki’s nose, retreating a bit to look him into eyes. “How could I be in your presence when I almost—almost killed you?”

“I survived, and with this,” Loki pointed out his blue skin, “With this, I’m now stronger for it.” Leaning against Thor, he breathed in his scent. He had so missed him.

“Oh, Loki.” Thor gathered him closer. They talked more, deep into night, about everything and nothing, simply cuddling and staying close next to each other. 

Wanting to have time with Thor, and to escape the endless curious looks from everyone at the palace, after breakfast the next day, they packed for a trip to Asgard's wilderness. 

Thor told him about a waterfall he had found and caves full of sparkling rocks embedded in the walls, unable to stop gushing about how peaceful it had been there, and how much he had missed sharing that discovery with Loki. 

And indeed it was—beautiful that is, not only peaceful. The raging waterfall perhaps wasn’t the epitome of peace for a leisurely person, but it was instead very Thor-esque, he had to admit. It went really well with Thor’s aesthetic, appealing to Loki even more.

They set up camp near the foot of the waterfall, right by the lake at its base and the river that flowed from it, while listening to crickets in the meadow further away, echoes of birds flying past the cliff where massive amounts of water fell down.

Thor lay down the bedrolls before putting up a shelter over them, while Loki gathered firewood for later, them sneaking looks of the other, smiling whenever their eyes would meet.

Leaving Thor to his work, Loki went over to the horses, petting them for a moment, immensely glad they didn’t shy away from him, nor stared at his skin. He had shed his tunic and boots as soon as they arrived, having gotten used to being barefoot in the last week. Before this his feet tended to get cold and Thor would gift him fuzzy socks; tickling him relentlessly when Loki tried to shove at him with the sock-clad feet.

Untucking the horses, Loki spent time brushing them out, just peering over the view—cliffs with water falling down into the endlessly churning lake beneath it, the sunlit meadow with two horses grazing. And, of course, Thor, leaning over and hefting more firewood, muscles straining, Loki could look at him forever. The weather was so hot, and Loki could only look on as Thor took his tunic off as well, heaving a sigh of relief in the light breeze; smirking across at Loki who had daydreamed away in the beautiful view and once again finding Thor as the thing he could gaze at endlessly.

They meet in a kiss at the shore, water droplets soon soaking whatever they are still wearing. Giggling at each other, Thor and Loki both quickly rid themselves of remaining clothes kissing more, grabbing at naked skin, running hands up and down each other.

Thor picked up Loki in his hands, hugging him close, before rushing into the lake and dunking them both.

Loki came up sputtering, turning in a circle when he couldn’t see Thor. He knew from past swims that is was inevitable—something pulled on his leg and Loki was once again underwater. 

Turning quickly he met Thor’s eyes seeing the mirth in them. He had missed that look since the accident something fierce and now was inexplicably glad to see it directed right at him.

Surfacing again, he met Thor in another kiss, wrapping his arms and legs around, holding onto his brother, absolutely unwilling to let go.

The kisses soon turned deeper and one of Loki’s hands inevitably sneaked down, to grab at Thor’s cock, finding it half-hard already. A moan escaped him, trying not to count the days since he and Thor last time had sex.

Thor bit at his bottom lip before gathering Loki closer and swimming back to the shore. 

In the cold water Loki had felt right at home, but as soon as he and Thor fell across their bedrolls—tucked next to each other with a single pelt over the covers—Loki felt the heat Thor had always exuded so much more acutely. 

Gasping, Loki kissed wherever he could reach, squeezing Thor’s sides and rutting upwards, wanting stimulation to his cock. 

“You’ve missed me, have you brother?” Thor smirked at him, bestowing a little kiss on Loki’s markings and scars on his chest. Starting there, he kissed further down, tracing the scars, unerringly finding the one that lead to his—

“Aaaaah, Thor!”

Cock. The one scar that traversed from Loki’s heart, right to his cock. And Thor bit at it, at the patch of skin right next to his cock—hairless in his jotun skin, which wasn’t much of a difference from his Aesir skin truth be told. Thor in comparison was exactly the amount of fuzzy that Loki loved. 

With more developed shapeshifting skills, Loki already looked forward to creating a beard for himself, just so Thor could experience that perfect after-rimming ache when Loki would be done with him.

Loki was heating up, moaning from friction as he and Thor rubbed at each other until he suddenly came, shouting his brother’s name, biting at his neck. Panting, he looked into Thor’s eyes and smirked.

He very much enjoyed the look on his brother’s face when he told him about his newly nonexistent refractory period.

After that it didn’t take long for Thor to get a most devious smile. He stroked Loki, licking at the slit, pushing for another orgasm. Loki had tangled one hand in Thor’s hair, trying to hold on, to ground himself, but it was futile. This time his come hit Thor’s chin, decorating his brother’s face with the white droplets—prompting Loki to lean into Thor to lick them all up. “Mmm, I do taste good.” 

Kissing Thor, giving him a taste of frost giant come as well. From the way Thor surged forwards, pinning Loki to the bedroll, he found it pleasant as well.

Thor pushed Loki’s shoulders to lay flat and once more kissed down his chest, giving attention to the markings, which made Loki shiver in pleasure, as well as his nipples. Loki could not moan loud enough, from all the sensations assaulting him. 

He flicked a hand at their supply pack, setting in motion a working to unearth the bottle of slick he himself had packed there. This time it was an elven recipe, Thor’s favorite. 

Slicking his fingers, Loki watched Thor kissing at his belly for a moment. With a shuddery moan, Loki finally reached past the kisses and circled his hole. One finger in and Thor joined him in the venture, slicking his own fingers and adding one of his, spreading Loki further. 

The contrast in how warm they were made Loki gasp, and clench down on the fingers, trying to impale himself on them. Heat and chill combined set him off into another orgasm, especially when Thor had reached his prostate. “Oooh, Thor, moremore—please—more!”

“Brother, I think you love that you’ve become even more insatiable than before than I do. I wonder how much I could wring out of you in one night. Would you pass out of pleasure while your cock was still hard.” Thor, kept rubbing at his prostate, smirking down at Loki, knowing he was climbing higher and higher, once more towards an orgasm, his cock twitching and pelvis thrusting up and down, on Thor’s fingers.

More slick and Thor was sliding in a third finger, spreading Loki open, kissing him and sucking bruises into his neck, licking over them with his tongue. “Should I make you even more open for me? Or is it enough and you want that ache to remind you of me for the next days?”

“Fuck me, brother, please, I want to feel it. Again and again.” Loki could forsee tomorrow morning already—him waking up because Thor had woken up first and was already hard, pushing inside, fucking the still half-asleep Loki, kissing his spine, covering him with all of that hot Aesir skin. 

Thor smirked and folded Loki almost in half, slicking up his own cock, before positioning it at Loki’s entrance, tracing the rim. He was leaking precome, watching the way it slicked Loki up even more. Pushing inside, Thor stilled, in awe of how Loki’s hole just sucked him in, like a greedy mouth wanting everything and anything. Moving up, he slid deeper, then resumed kissing Loki, eating up his moans.

Once fully inside, Thor bit at Loki’s lower lip once again and moved his hands to Loki’s hips. Holding onto them, he started thrusting, fucking Loki with hard quick moves, hitting his prostate on every turn. “You look wonderful like this. Will you come without a touch to your cock, hm?” 

Loki tried nodding and telling him yes, but all he could utter was, “Ungghh, Th— ungfff aaah!”

“Oh, you will? There’s a good boy, come for your brother.” Thor let go of his hips to caress his markings.

Loki’s spine arched, pleasure hitting the peak, “Brother, aaaah!” Falling backwards on the bedroll, he was panting, unable to draw enough breath to say anything more. Thor was still hard inside him, still so hot like a brand, marking Loki his. A moment later Thor resumed fucking Loki, fast and hard. Loki could only lie there and take it, exhausted, but still hard, not even gone soft from the last orgasm. 

Looking up at Thor and the way he would not take his eyes from him, Loki could not understand how he missed that when he had fallen in love with Thor, Thor had fallen in love with him as well. He smiled, tangling a hand in Thor’s hair, pulling him down on him, deepening the penetration, gasping at it. Kissing Thor was the most fun thing he could think of. It made even the dullest days wondrous.

Wanting to share some more of his newfound jotun abilities, Loki untangled his hands and turned the palms so that Thor could clearly see everything. Then thought of ice and cold and relief from overwhelming heat, creating ice at his fingertips. Bringing the same fingertips to his markings, he traced them downwards, finding that scar on his left side, the one leading to his cock.

He left ice and moisture behind as the hand travelled downwards. Thor moved his hands from Loki’s sides to his pelvis, one on each side of Loki’s cock—as if framing it. And from his hurried thrusts, very impatient to come, but still holding out to see what Loki intended to do.

Reaching the end of the scar, Loki exhaled harshly and circled the iced-over hand around his cock, his gasp turning into a moan turning into a keen, just as Thor had increased his thrusts, his pleasure mounting, fucking Loki with everything he had, ramping up the pace and adding his own hand to Loki’s, jacking his cock together, unable to stop that one spark from forming, zapping Loki’s cock—coming and making Loki come, screaming his name, almost convulsing in his hands, shouting for more, panting and impaling himself on Thor’s softening cock again and again, keening in absolute pleasure.

Kissing and moaning into each other, they finally collapsed, turning to lie next to one another. Whispers and love affirmations in between more kisses.

 

~~  
It was a year later when Loki and Thor found themselves standing next to another waterfall. Only this time it was frozen, the water locked forever in stillness. Above it, the cliff was dark and snowed over, as was the ground. 

It took all of Loki’s patience not to push Thor into snow and giggle like mad. Thor, clad in the warmest pelts and insulated boots, was still shivering a bit. Jotunheim was decidedly much much colder than Asgards winters, even at the top of mountain spires. Loki was in his favorite sleeveless tunic, feeling exactly right in this weather. He felt magic running through his markings, keeping him warm, not letting the chill get to him.

Jotunheim was colder than any book Loki read described it, but being here, he could see the beauty of it. Still, it wasn’t a place he would want to live, not after all the centuries growing up in Asgard. Jotunheim was a place where he could study magecraft and eat up all the fish he could want.

A sudden sneeze behind him made Loki jump and turn from the waterfall. Thor was wiping his nose, looking very uncomfortable.

They were at the edge of Ironwood, here for a return visit to see Utgard Loki, who was still living, and after a longer talk with Odin, turned out to be also the one Loki was named after. His war strategy had been described in Bestla’s journals over and over again, him becoming the most cunning of frost giants within the pages.

Loki ushered Thor into the Ironwood, where the cold winds couldn’t get in, soon stopping Thor’s shivers. Kissing at his brother’s icy cheek, Loki sent a working to his pelts, warming them up.

Relations between Asgard and Jotunheim hadn’t been off to a good start, but meeting with Utgard Loki turned the tide in their talks. Meeting with Laufey had been awkward as hell, but eventually they could stand to be in a room together, exchanging stilted conversation about strategy and combat magics.

He much more preferred the scholars and hedge witches of Jotunheim, meeting with both in different settings and parts of the realm, exchanging his own skills, especially with shapeshifting which he had mastered much further than a year ago. Loki knew that years in the future, he could turn himself into almost anything and possibly change other’s shapes as well—anticipating a jotun Thor so so much. 

Mjolnir lit the way through the Ironwood—it had taken Thor another four months after his return to master his lightning. He could direct it and and redirect it, could effectively change weather and safely dissipate the lightning as well. Odin had been impressed.

Loki knew Thor had been nervous, even scared while trying to control the lightning. To have mastery over it instead of letting it control you. But he persevered and Loki used all possible underhanded tactics to make Thor use that lightning exactly as he wished—mostly during their more intimate moments. 

Whenever Loki would return to his Aesir skin, which was rarer as the time went by, Thor would get that guilty far-away look in his eyes as soon as he caught a glimpse of the scars. But Loki found a way to get him to change that look. After all, why should he be sad, the scars were now a part of him, and most importantly—they were something Thor gave him. Even if they weren’t intended, they were there to stay. 

Inspired by Bestla, Loki had started his own journals, detailing his contact with Jotunheim, as well as experiences with being a frost giant in Asgard, and finally about how it felt to be a jotun raised Asgardian in Jotunheim.

The path to the center of Ironwood was much safer than even a single foot off-path. There were poisonous and other types of plants as well as wildlife that wasn’t visitor-friendly. But the path was safe, guarded by magic and littered with witchlights along the way. 

Pine needles and snow mingled on the ground, illuminated by the witchlight. Ironwood was thick and full of all kinds of dangerous things. But the most intriguing thing lived at its center, expecting them for dinner.

Loki pulled Thor closer to him, stopping for a moment. Exchanging kisses was still his favorite thing to do with Thor. Loki clutched at Thor’s warmed up clothes, moaning into his mouth, getting a bit of teeth biting at his lower lip in retaliation. Hugging Thor closer, Loki sighed in happiness. Just the two of them, on an adventure, without any prying eyes and cort gossip.

He was sure Frigga now knew about their relationship, and still loved them with all of her heart. And probably was redirecting any questions from Odin about them both. Heimdall, with his long suffering looks whenever they had gone anywhere with the Bifrost, definitely knew. And Utgard Loki had walked in on them, whistling loudly, even yelling encouragement as he backed out of the room.

Utgard Loki was a ginger menace with a crooked smile and endless commentary about everyone and everything, but was also Loki’s favorite frost giant. And a hedge witch. Though Loki suspected that he could muster up even more power and magics if prompted. If there was someone to befriend in Jotunheim it was him—on the days he was a him and not a her, or a they—Loki never knew how which way he would lean. 

He was definitely someone Loki wanted to imitate, and was very glad when Utgard Loki named himself as a sort of mentor to Loki. There was much he could learn from him, starting with magics and diplomacy. Cooking and myriad of seafood recipes were a bonus.

Thor was definitely jealous of this relationship, but knew he was still Thor’s favorite brother (especially since Laufey did have two sons who were Loki’s half brothers as well) and will always be that. His brother and lover and friend.

Even with all these new people in their lives, paying so much attention to Loki—Thor loves Loki and Loki loves Thor. And nothing will keep them apart.

 

~~


	2. fic art!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art for the fic by the wonderful [boltplumart](http://boltplumart.tumblr.com/) <3

_It took all of Loki’s patience not to push Thor into snow and giggle like mad. Thor, clad in the warmest pelts and insulated boots, was still shivering a bit. Jotunheim was decidedly much much colder than Asgards winters, even at the top of mountain spires. Loki was feeling exactly right in this weather. He felt magic running through his markings, keeping him warm, not letting the chill get to him._


End file.
